Year 6
by nyclights
Summary: Harry's sixth year. On permanent hiatus? Never will be finished.


[Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling and her publishers. Please don't sue me.]

**Chapter 1**

Harry reread the passage for the fifth time, finally slamming the whole book down on the table. It was a very heavy book, and Ron and Hermione turned to look at him.  
  
"Sorry, can't concentrate." he said, smiling weakly. "Headache," he added.  
  
"I know, the air in here is absolutely foul, the house elves -" Ron started.  
  
"Harry, you want to go on a walk? To clear your head?" Hermione asked, looking at him worriedly. Ron scowled, clearly annoyed at being ignored; but after a few seconds, his annoyance was forgotten and he turned to look at Harry with concern.  
  
"No, I think I'm fine," Harry said, staring at all the homework around him gloomily.  
  
"I don't think so," Hermione said, frowning. "Go out and take a walk. It'll be good for you."  
  
"But... my homework..." he gestured helplessly around him at the pile of books he was studying from.  
  
"Is not as important as your health. I'll help you with your potions essay when you get back, Harry," Hermione said firmly.  
  
"Thanks, Hermione," he said, getting up. A pause, and then, "You want to come, Ron?" Ron shook his head, knowing that Harry did not really want him to come.  
  
"Harry, mate, you should go by yourself." Harry nodded and climbed out through the portrait hole.  
  
Hermione and Ron watched him go. They looked at each other and sighed.  
  
---  
  
Harry stared across the lake. Sirius. If only...  
  
Harry shivered suddenly. He had forgotten to bring his scarf. It wasn't cold when he came out here, he remembered. It must have been quite a while ago.  
  
He knew he was worrying Hermione and Ron. He should not brood over Sirius' death. But Sirius had not deserved to die. If only Harry had not been so stupid, so reckless...  
  
If Sirius were alive to see him now, what would he think?  
  
He imagined Sirius standing there. Would he be happy? Sad? Angry?  
  
Maybe angry that Harry was sitting here, wasting time brooding when he should be doing other things. Like studying, or practicing quidditch.  
  
_You fly just like your father, Harry,_ Sirius had said.  
  
Harry closed his eyes. He had gone over this a hundred times during the summer. Sirius is dead. Nothing Harry did would bring him back.  
  
Let him be a memory. A happy memory.  
  
He picked himself up and walked back towards the castle. The stars were coming out. He looked up and pointed at one.  
  
That one's you, Sirius.  
  
---  
  
"Malfoy?" Harry was startled. He hadn't noticed Draco until they were practically face to face.  
  
"The one and only," Draco said, grinning. Then he looked thoughtful. "Well, if you don't count my father."  
  
Harry snorted.  
  
"What're you doing here, anyway, Potter?" Draco asked. Harry stiffened.  
  
"None of your business," he snapped. Draco's eyes glittered, and his mouth curved upwards in a smile full of malice.  
  
"Gone off to mourn your dead godfather? The dog man? No point really. It's not as if he could hear your pitiful thoughts or see your tears. Yes, I've seen you, Potter, down there by the lake, crying. How does it feel to lose yet another loved one?"  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy."  
  
"You never knew your dear parents, they died too soon. And it was because of you, you know. It was your fault they died. Maybe if you hadn't been born, they would still be alive-"  
  
"That's not true!" Harry yelled. But he knew it was. The damned prophecy, why couldn't it just leave him alone? Harry was crying. He knew that he must be; his face was wet and he could not see properly.  
  
He did not remember taking his wand out of his robes, he did not remember pointing it at Malfoy, he did not remember them being so close to the wall, he didn't remember much at all. But there he was, his wand almost touching Draco's chest, and he felt a hatred he had never felt before towards this boy who had bullied him for five years, who had replaced Dudley in his nightmares. He was not afraid of Draco inflicting physical pain on him, in the way he had been afraid of Dudley - he was afraid of Draco taking his life and twisting and twisting it so that he could not bear to live, could not bear to feel any happiness while others were suffering.  
  
Did Malfoy understand the magnitude of the pain he had caused in Harry? The shocked look on Draco's face was answer enough, and Harry was ashamed of losing control so completely. Harry had let Malfoy's taunts reach him, perhaps on purpose, and because of this, he had almost committed an unforgivable crime...  
  
Feeling sick with guilt and horror at what he had almost done, he dropped his wand and ran back to the Gryffindor common room. He didn't look back once.


End file.
